


A.R.K. Book I: Build a Fire, Watch it Burn

by lionqueen



Series: A.R.K. [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-04 11:43:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1777783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionqueen/pseuds/lionqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bellamy Blake receives his angel wings it's immediately following his, very publicized, bust of a international sex trafficking operation.<br/>He's worn out and scarred but being called upon by A.R.K. is not something you turn down for sleep. Not that he would turn them down anyways. Being an FBI Agent helps him pay his sister's school tuition some, and it doesn't hurt that badge bunnies regularly flock to him. But being A.R.K.? That's a whole other level, and it all starts when he meets a blonde haired Princess.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> In 1963, not long after the assassination of President Kennedy, it became clear that there was a need for a...different type of law enforcement.
> 
> A branch that, unlike the FBI, could work outside the government; an organization that unlike the CIA would still hold morals, ethics and justice above all else.
> 
> They would be spies and assassins, medical examiners and scientists; and each member would be all. The best of the best, the organization that took care of things that went bump in the night.
> 
> I'm not saying such a group exists; there are whispers and shadows of warriors that pass quickly. For someone to discover the truth they would have to be welcomed into the ranks of specialists, to join an organization that most believe to be a myth.
> 
> Now, if such an organization existed, I would take the time to thank them for everything they do to keep us safe. I would thank them for the terrorists they capture, the dictators they cut down and the serial killers they stop. These people would risk their lives daily for the safety of the 7 billion other people on earth.
> 
> So, if they were real, I would thank the guardian angels of A.R.K. and I hope that, wherever in the world they may be, they know we are grateful.

Clarke could feel the sweat trickling down her face, the cool metal gun pressed against her forehead, but she refused to acknowledge it, staring in the brown eyes that bore into her own. The gun against her head shakes and Clarke refuses to even flinch, she won’t give him the satisfaction.

Bellamy’s own gun is trained on the man standing behind her, he moves his eyes from her’s and looks at her captor, “It’s over. Drop your gun.”

She feels the man behind her shake his head and tighten his hold on her, “Not a chance. I’m leaving with this one,” the head of the gun pushes further into Clarke’s temple and she winces at the feeling that reverberates through her skull. She’s sure she has a concussion from the hit to the head she took a couple of days ago. “We’re going to get on the plane and go somewhere you’ll never find her.”

Clarke feels her heart drop to her stomach. She’s incapacitated, she glares at her broken leg, has been since she was taken; so there’s no possible way for her to help Bellamy. It’s up to him, fear rushes through her. She trusts him with her life – but he won’t do what is necessary to get this monster off the streets if she’s being held in front of him like some kind of shield. 

“You won’t get very far. We’ve got this place surrounded.”

She knows that’s not true. He probably brought the team with him and while she would never trust her life with any other group – aside from Bellamy there is only four others and judging by the way he’s currently trying to stall they aren’t close by. The clock is ticking and she has probably two minutes before he’s dragging her out of this room and onto a plane. She’s begging Bellamy with her eyes to just _fucking shoot him_ but she knows by the look in his eyes he won’t because he’s afraid he’ll hit her. Her captor is much taller then her so there’s a chance of a headshot but Bellamy’s worried the gun trained on her temple will shoot first.

Almost as though he can read the silent conversation the partners are having the man behind her pushes the gun harder against her head. She winces, and bites her bottom lip so hard it bleeds. “I’m going to back out of this room and you’re going to let me,” he’s saying to Bellamy. “You’re going to call off the cops outside and everyone will be happy - and alive.” 

Bellamy glares, glowering at him, “You taking Clarke is not an option.”

“It’s the only option.” Clarke’s still trying to kick her legs, bow her body so that maybe he jostles her enough to give Bellamy a clear shot. But her broken leg throbs and there’s not enough power behind her movement because she’s dangling a little above the floor. He’s got an arm banded around her waist so her movement is constricted and with the gun to her head… he may want her alive but she fears if he finds her more of a problem he’ll shoot and either kill her or leave her even more useless then she already is. She refuses to die by this monster’s hands. If she’s going to die in this room it’s not going to be by the hands of the man that killed her father; it will be Bellamy and she’ll take the man that ruined her life with her. “So what’ll it be Special Agent Blake?”

It all happens so quickly that Clarke couldn’t have prepared for it even if she tried. There’s a series of gunshots and pain explodes throughout her body before everything goes black and she’s falling into darkness.


	2. Bond, James Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy's first day at A.R.K. and he finds that he really sucks at first impressions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have the best beta afigureofspeech on tumblr so this is for her and everything she did to make this chapter what it is!

**Chapter 1: Bond, James Bond.**   
_“I’ll do anything for a woman with a knife.” --- James Bond, License to Kill_

Bellamy Blake steps out of a cab and slings his messenger bag over his shoulder. Leaning through the window he slaps a fifty dollar bill in the cabbie’s hand and accepts his gruff ‘have a nice day’ as the guy speeds off to find his next patron.

Bellamy turns, surveying his surroundings out of habit, to stare up at the large stone building. His sun glasses protect his gaze from the glare of the sun that reflects off the mirrored glass covering one side of the building. It is 6 a.m. and the sun is only just rising behind the building, backlighting it and casting a large shadow. He wears a lightweight white button down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the crook of his elbows. It is unseasonable warm for an early May morning in New York City; the air is shrouded in humidity that pulls relentlessly at his thick hair in an attempt to free the wavy locks. His pants are loose and a khaki color and he would have worn sandals but he’s not sure of the dress code. On his lips he carries a smirk that draws the eyes of every surrounding woman, and Bellamy raises his eyebrow when one woman smiles flirtatiously as she passes by.

The building he stands in front of has a sign off to the side and as he half jogs up the sets of stairs he can’t help but laugh.

**Noah’s Pest Control**

He pulls open the large glass doors and wonders if anyone really believes this massive building is home to an extermination company. Slipping his sun glasses to the top of his head, his eyes fall on a poster that says ‘we kill bugs bigger than you’ and he laughs outright as he turns to the receptionist. She’s a red headed girl, around his little sister’s age, who is eyeing him in a way that makes him feel uncomfortable.

“Bellamy Blake,” he intones, “I’m here to see Director Jaha.”

The girl nods and extends a slightly shaking hand to give him the visitor’s card, “Through that door.” She points across the room.

The entrance room to this building is sparsely decorated and no one mingles inside. He swipes his card through the reader on the door before pushing his way through, the room that appears before him is the real entrance to A.R.K., the secret agency Bellamy has been chosen to join. He watches people jog back and forth, some rushing from the metal detectors on the right to the section of elevators at the back of the room and others mingling at the coffee stand to the left.

He walks to the metal detector, following the procedures and chatting lightly with the guard before he grabs his bag off the belt. “Which floor is Director Jaha’s office on?”

The guard tilts his head, “All the way up – 13th floor."

“Thanks, man,” Bellamy says.

He heads to the set of elevators on the back wall where people are converging and scratches his arm impatiently as he waits. When the elevator dings and the arrow up brightens he steps in with six others. As the elevator begins to move a few people murmur back and forth while others tap on the screens of their phones. The numbers above the door light up, and he watches for 13. He’s alone in the elevator after the third stop and when the door opens he steps off, walking up to the reception desk.

“Can I help you?”

He almost jumps, but his reflexes are fast and he manages to calm himself. He looks over his shoulder to see he walked right past a tall, thin woman with blonde hair.

He clears his throat, “I’m here to see Director Jaha. I’m Bellamy Blake.”

“Diana,” she says with a small smile as she walks around him and stands behind her desk. “Thelonius is waiting for you.” She motions to the door straight ahead and turns back to where she’s wiping down her desk.

He strides determinedly up to the door, and knocks before entering the room. It’s relatively large, one wall completely made out of windows, another covered in wanted posters – A.R.K.’s most wanted criminals. There are about three crossed out with giant red X’s; Sadam Hussein, Osama Bin Laden and a man whose face he recognizes from the news several years ago.

A throat clears and his attention is drawn to the man sitting before him. He’s at a large wooden desk, his hands folded on top; his spine is rigidly straight but his face is soft, earnest and composed.

“You must be Agent Blake,” he says, his voice smooth and calming.

Bellamy nods. “Director Jaha?” He’s not sure why it comes out like a question. “I’m happy to finally have receive my wings.”

Jaha stands, holding out his hand and gripping Bellamy’s tightly as he shakes it. “We’re happy to have you. I kept up on the sex trafficking case, it was great work.”

Bellamy nods but changes the subject. “What team will I be working with Sir?”

Jaha shifts and motions for Bellamy to follow him out the door. “You’ll be joining Marcus Kane’s team. You’ll find that Agent Kane’s unit are some of our best agents here.” Jaha steps out of his office but does not follow Bellamy any further than that. “Most of the higher ranked A.R.K. teams are on the 7th level – you should find your new team in the conference room.” When Bellamy steps into the elevator Jaha nods once. “Good luck Special Agent Blake.”

Bellamy tries not to think how it sounds more like he’s going off to war than to meet his new partners. He would say he was nervous, but Blakes don’t get nervous – his hands aren’t sweating and he isn’t unable to stand still. The elevator dings again, resounding annoyingly throughout the empty space . The floor is empty, despite the many cubicles, and Bellamy glances down at his watch to see it’s just 7 a.m.

“Hey!” a man’s voice calls.“Do you have authorization to be on this floor?”

Bellamy looks up to see a man only a couple of years older than him. He assumes most would find the man intimidating but Bellamy doesn’t care if the big muscles, bald head, and tattoos usually scare people off. He straightens and steps forward into the man’s space.

“I’m looking for the conference room – I’m the new agent on Kane’s team.”

The man surveys him, his stance still guarded even as he nods. “Lincoln,” he says.

Bellamy wonders if this guy is always so gruff. “Blake,” he answers, “Bellamy Blake.”

There’s a quick flash of something in Lincoln’s eyes - humor maybe? - before he nods to the room down the hall, slightly away from the large open space. “The conference room is right there.”

He’s gone before Bellamy can even thank him, not that he would. He wonders if all A.R.K. agents are going to be as pleasant. He opens the door Lincoln pointed out to him and comes to a stop as he enters.

There’s one man, his back to the door, eyes on the large TV screen that’s playing six different news channels. He’s taller than Bellamy, not as wide, but he stands straight and tense. He’s not even facing him and Bellamy finds himself slightly intimidated. The lone man turns, his arms crossed over his chest. He surveys Bellamy with a dark critical glance that make him tense.

Bellamy straightens, bristling at the look in his new boss’s eyes. “Agent Kane? I’m Agent Blake. Bellamy Blake.” He stretches out his hand but lets it fall when Kane keeps his arms crossed. Bellamy thinks it is Kane’s silence and the way it is his eyes that speak his opinion that makes him uncomfortable.

A flash, similar to the humor seen earlier in Lincoln’s eyes, changes Kane’s face for only a moment. But then his stoic mask is back and Bellamy wonders if the stories he’s heard about this man - his compassion with victims, his intelligence and skill in the field - are only legends.

When Kane walks past him and stands at the door, he makes an impatient sound when Bellamy doesn’t follow. “Are you coming?” Kane asks before he continues on his way.

Bellamy stares for a moment at the spot where Kane had been standing before hurrying to catch up. This time, they take the stairs and two flights down is a door labeled with a large letter A. When they push the door open Bellamy tries to suppress the first shiver that passes through his body.

They’ve found themselves on the Autopsy floor, and Bellamy learns that no matter what agency you work for, the floor is always bitingly cold. Kane stops at one of the first doors on the right and purses his lips together when he sees it’s empty. He continues his stride and Bellamy barely has time to sneak through the crack between the elevator doors as they slide closed. He sees the number 4 light up and wonders what kind of mission Kane is on.

There’s a small hallway when the doors open and even from here he can hear the loud music coming from several doors down. He glances at Kane but the man is already heading toward the door and the music.

Bellamy follows Kane, who after a momentary pause at the door, opens it and walks through.The inside of the room is white. Bright and clean, with the hum of machines all around him; it feels sterile like Autopsy but without the cool temperatures. There’s a computer that seems to be running some kind of database scan and a set of doors that slide open to reveal a man with goggles dancing. He’s not watching where he’s going and somehow manages to trip over his own feet. The beaker he’s carrying shatters on the ground, spilling a steaming liquid all around him.

“Jasper!” Bellamy hears the yell even over the loud beats. “I told you to be careful! That chemical could be dangerous!”

An angry woman with long black hair rushes out of the same room the man came out of earlier; her small hands are gloved and holding what appears to be a cattle prod with one hot end. She points it at the man with the goggles but pulls back when a hand rests on her arm.

“Whoa Raven, watch where you’re pointing that thing.”

Two men have joined the group; the man who spoke is smaller with black hair that sweeps over his eyes. His friend has the stance of a military man and Bellamy sees a tattoo peeking out from under his black t-shirt.

Raven is still angry, her face livid as she attempts to prod the poker in Jasper’s direction. “You’re cleaning this mess up with your bare hands!”

“I thought you said it might be dangerous,” Jasper says as he bites his lip.

“Well we’ll find out if you die in the next 24 hours, won’t we?”

Kane clears his throat from next to Bellamy and everyone in the room jumps - Bellamy, who forgot the man was standing next to him, and the four members of the team who didn’t realize their boss was in the room.

The music suddenly stops and Jasper shifts. “Boss… didn’t see you over there.”

Kane stares at the military man, his eyebrows raised. “Where is she, Miller?”

The man, Miller, clears his throat and answers, “She went to get coffee.”

The short man with black hair mumbles something about needing caffeine after being stuck here all night and Raven shoots him a look.“She should be back before the new guy gets here,” Raven offers to Kane.

Jasper points at Bellamy, “Umm Ray? I think the new guy is already here.”

All four of them stare at Bellamy in surprise.

“Shit! I told you we’d be late,” the guy with black hair exclaims.

“The memo said 7 a.m.”

“It is 7 a.m. you ass-"

“Introduce yourselves,” Kane says tiredly.

The four of them look between each other before Jasper shrugs and steps forward, gripping Bellamy’s hand, “Jasper Jordan, field agent extraordinaire. I specialize in weapons and chemicals… sometimes,” he adds forlornly looking to the spilled mixture on the floor.

The black haired man rolls his eyes and shakes Bellamy‘s hand. “Monty Green, also a field agent _and_ the fastest hacker here but I’m also the plant guy.” At Bellamy’s confusion Monty continues with the simplest example, “Find me some dirt and I can tell you within a fifteen mile radius of where it came from.”

Bellamy nods and Raven steps forward, registering the way Bellamy’s eyes trail her body. “Raven Reyes, I’m the bomb expert, arson specialist, and resident mechanic so if you don’t want to be going 50 down the highway without breaks I suggest you put your eyes back in your head.”

Bellamy nods at her and notices she doesn’t extend her hand. Miller steps forward and also doesn’t move to take Bellamy’s hand. “Derek Miller - Miller - field agent, profiler, weapons and tactics specialist.”

When they all continue to stare at him Bellamy jolts and realizes they are waiting for him to introduce himself. “Umm, Blake.” He winces at the growing smirk on Raven’s face. “Bellamy Blake, just transferred from the FBI – I’d say my specialty is hand to hand combat and guns. Give me anything and I can shoot it,” he adds when Raven continues to grin at him and Miller looks away smiling. Neither Jasper nor Monty attempt to hide their smirks as they glance at Kane. Bellamy gets the distinct feeling he is missing something and coaches himself not to shift in discomfort. He looks at the group in front of him. “So is this everyone?”

“No,” a higher pitched voice says as the door to the room slams, “Sorry I’m late, there was an awful line at Starbucks.” A blonde blur brushes past him, briefly handing Kane a coffee and touching his arm. She moves like a hummingbird, juggling two drink trays and handing each drink out to their rightful owner. “I’m sorry I didn’t have time to stop and get you anything but I wasn’t sure what you’d like an-“

He zones out when she turns to face him. The blonde is an average height woman with fair skin and large blue eyes. Her body is toned and lithe, reminding him very much of a dancer’s body. She looks out of place to him, and he wonders why a girl like this would ever become an A.R.K agent. When he sees she’s smiling at him, animated and sunny, he realizes he must have missed something important, “Uhh sorry?”

She laughs, “I’m Clarke Griffin,” she says stepping forward to shake his hand. “Senior field agent – medical, weapons and combat specialist.”

“Occasional profiler,” Miller pipes up.

“24-7 badass,” Jasper quips, pretending to shoot a pistol.

“Great cook,” Monty offers when the two men turn to look at him.

Raven rolls her eyes and smacks Monty on the back of his head. She turns to Bellamy and raises and eyebrow. “Griffin doesn’t touch my shit.” Agent Griffin shrugs at him and smiles as she drops his hand. “It’s rocket science no matter what she claims.”

Bellamy grins at her despite his confusion. “I’m Agent Blake, Bellamy Blake.”

He watches her lips twitch into a smile before she snorts. “Okay James Bond.” At his stare she continues, “Bond, James Bond.”

The others laugh as though this is a common occurrence and Bellamy wonders how many lesser men she’s flustered with that line. His mother always says he is quick to anger, and his temper spikes when he wonders if Clarke was trying to humiliate him. She turns - with what intent he’s not sure - and the snarky response that slips past his lips is unintentional.

“Sorry Princess. Next time I’ll be sure to bow.”

Clarke’s back tenses, her body visibly freezing in place and the room suddenly becomes stuffy. When Clarke turns and looks at him with dark eyes he internally winces but stands with an air of indifference. “Don’t call me Princess.”

Bellamy doesn’t look at the man beside him as the other five members of his new team start talking loudly, but he can feel Kane’s gaze on the side of his face, burning heatedly into his skin.

Well, as far as first impressions go that definitely could have gone better.


End file.
